


Running is the Worst

by MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)



Series: The One Where Cas is a Werewolf [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Accidental Non-Con Biting, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Clueless Dean, Dubious Consent, EMT Dean, Firefighter Dean (future), Friends to Lovers, Full Moon, Full Shift Werewolves, Happy Ending, Human Dean, M/M, Mating Bites, Running, SPN A/B/O Bingo, Werewolf Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester
Summary: Running is the worst. Dean hates it more than Priuses, airplanes, and guys who wear jean shorts combined. And yet here he is at 6:45am, nothing but a long stretch of woods and the rhythm of his own feet to keep him moving. He hates it. So much.





	Running is the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to fill the Mating Bites square on my SPN ABO Bingo card.
> 
> For those of you worried about the Non-Con tag, check the End Notes for an explanation.

Running is the worst. Dean hates it more than Priuses, airplanes, and guys who wear jean shorts combined. And yet here he is at 6:45am, nothing but a long stretch of woods and the rhythm of his own feet to keep him moving. He hates it. So much.

Despite that, he’s in a rhythm, the sound of his feet hitting the bike path one foot after the other pushing him on. It’s a little hypnotizing, which is why he doesn’t hear the noise at first. A soft, low growl, somewhere deep in the woods. Dean turns his head to look, breathing hard, suddenly furious with himself for running in the woods alone before dawn. How stupid could he be?

He keeps running despite knowing that whatever is growling might be tempted to chase him. It’s better than standing still and letting himself get mauled. He sees a flash of dark fur out of the corner of his eye and puts in a burst of speed hoping to outrun the creature without really believing he will.

He gets twenty yards further down the path before a claw catches his hoodie and yanks him back. He topples to the side into a soft patch of grass, a giant mass landing on top of him, much too big to be a dog or coyote. Dean didn’t think they had wolves in Kansas, but the scratchy fur and size of it can’t be many other things. Panic settles in.

Dean tries to scramble away, kicking and flailing, but a paw pins down on his shoulder to keep him in place, and he isn’t strong enough to push back effectively. There’s snuffling sounds laced with high-pitched whines. A cold, wet nose nuzzles against his neck, hot breath puffing against his skin. In the silence, Dean tries to assess the situation. He’s trapped, but whatever this animal is, it hasn’t attacked him yet. The pressure against his shoulder doesn’t feel like a paw. The weight is distributed over too wide an area. He can feel… fingers? Tipped in claws, but definitely fingers. And the body holding him down is too long to be a wolf, now that his awareness is starting to sharpen. There are legs on either side of his, bent in a way wolf legs wouldn’t naturally. _Shit. Werewolf._

Dean’s never actually met one, just heard about them from school and bad movies in the basement of his best friend’s house, Cas complaining the whole time about how inaccurate they are. He didn’t think there were any werewolves in Lawrence. His EMT training tells him he should stay still. They don’t attack humans generally, not since they came out of the closet, as it were. Dean probably provoked them by running away. If he lets them sniff him, if he submits, they should be placated enough to let him go.

He tilts his head, arching his neck in submission and getting a glimpse of a long snout and glowing red eyes sunk into a heavily furred face that barely resembles human features. The wolf grunts in approval and licks at his exposed neck, scenting him. Dean takes deep breaths and tries to stay calm. He is trained to stay calm in emergency situations. He can do this.

One minute the wolf is snuffling at him, the next there are sharp teeth buried in the side of his neck. He shouts in pain, fighting to get away from the tearing sensation of his skin giving way to their razor sharp pressure. The wolf holds him there for a long moment, not letting him move an inch despite his kicking to get free. He isn’t in a position to get much leverage and the wolf is too heavy for Dean to wriggle out from under them.

As fast as they were biting him, the teeth retract, replaced with a lapping tongue and the stinging sensation of werewolf saliva seeping into his wounds. He keeps trying to buck the werewolf off him, cursing under his breath. The bite mark feels like tiny needles are sinking in to the edges, prickling his skin in a thousand points of pain. Until the tongue is gone and with it the pain.

The sun is just starting to crest over the hill when Dean gives one final, desperate shove and rolls onto his back in surprise, the weight on him suddenly much lighter. The body on top of him rolls off into the grass, no longer quite as hairy. Dark fur recedes into yards of tan skin. Familiar tan skin. Dean recognizes the tattoo on the man’s ribcage. He lifts up on an elbow in shock.

“Cas?”

Cas groans, rolling onto his stomach in obvious pain. When he comes back to reality, he blinks over at Dean in squinty-eyed confusion. “Dean?”

“What the fuck?! You’re a werewolf?!”

Cas makes an effort to sit up, and it’s only then that Dean notices he’s completely naked, covered in dirt and leaves and a little blood. He scrubs at his face with the heel of his hand, scrunching his face up in that cranky way of his early in the morning. “What are you doing in the woods?”

Dean sits up to match him, glaring. “I asked first.”

Cas growls under his breath, and how did Dean never notice that wasn’t exactly a human growl. “Yes, Dean. Obviously. Why were you running in the woods at the crack of dawn the morning of the full moon, you moron?”

“I’m the moron? Fuck you. You _bit me_. It’s a good thing I’m up on my tetanus shot. I’m gonna have to have like 5000 blood tests before they let me back on the job. Thanks for that,” he snaps back, standing and brushing the leaves off his shorts.

Cas follows him onto his feet with a lot more effort and poorly concealed wincing. “What would make you think it’s a good idea to go running in the woods the morning after a full moon before the sun’s even come up? You had to have known you were putting yourself at risk.”

“I didn’t know you were a werewolf! Thanks for telling me, asshole. I’m only your best friend.”

Cas stares at him, expressionless. “You didn’t know I was a werewolf,” he says, something dull and deadly in his tone.

Dean throws his hands up. “Obviously not.”

“You fucking moron. Where did you think I went every full moon? Why do you think I have so many werewolf books in my house? Or eat so much medium rare meat? Why do you think I always want to cuddle when we watch movies? Did you think that’s a normal bro thing?”

“You’re gay! I thought it was a gay thing.”

“You’re bi, you idiot! It’s not much different.”

Dean’s mind is running an insane gambit. He doesn’t know what to think. Was it weird that Cas liked to cuddle? A little, but Dean was too fucking gone on Cas to mind, so there was that. “I don’t pay attention to when the full moon is.”

Cas gives him a withering look. “You are a complete moron.”

“You BIT. ME.”

This seems to knock the incredulousness right out of Cas’ head. He blinks a few times as if dazed, then steps closer to Dean, eyes narrowing in on the bite mark. Dean should probably be worried that it stopped hurting around the time Cas turned back to human. “Shit,” Cas mutters, raising a hand up to feel around the edges of it. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he keeps muttering. His fingers brush over the marks. Dean expects the touch to sting, but it feels like he’s touching scarred skin and not an open wound. Cas squeezes his eyes shut. “Why did you have to go running in the woods.” He rests his forehead on Dean’s shoulder, leaning into his space with an air of defeat.

“Why did you bite me, Cas?”

“Instinct. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

"I’m not gonna turn into a werewolf, am I?"

Cas straightens, eyes narrowed in annoyance again. "No, Dean It's not like in the movies, which you would know if you'd ever bothered to pay a second of attention in biology. How did anyone let you become an EMT?"

"I studied human biology. Werewolves don't usually need medical treatment, since, you know, you’re usually healed before we're even on scene."

"Not an excuse."

"If you weren't trying to make me a werewolf, what's the point of biting me, then?" Dean asks, ignoring the sharp tone. Sometimes it's better to breeze right past Cas' pissier moods.

Cas mumbles something too quiet for Dean to hear. 

"Say that again?" Dean prompts.

"It was a mating bite. My wolf wanted to... mate with you."

Dean sits with that for a minute, not really sure how to respond. He and Cas have shared hand jobs a few times, and even spent a couple of nights making out on the couch after too many beers, but Dean hadn't really known Cas was interested in... "You saying you bit me 'cause you wanted to fuck me?"

Cas makes a frustrated growl under his breath and shakes his head. "No. Yes. Not... that's not what a mating bite is. It's... a claim. It's like a... weddingring." He mumbles that last part, but Dean catches it this time.

He raises an eyebrow. "Didn't know you felt that way, Cas."

Cas shoves at his shoulder, scowling. "Shut up, you assbutt."

Dean wants to make a joke, but he's not sure what to do with this information. He touches the side of his neck and only finds bumpy scarred-over skin instead of the open wound he was expecting. Werewolf saliva? He hadn’t known it had the same healing effect on others as it did on the werewolf themself. He feels along the raised skin, clear teeth marks in two scraggly Us. “So what does this mean, then?”

Cas wraps his arms around himself, starting to look like he’s aware of his nakedness for the first time in their conversation. Like Dean hasn’t been hyperaware of it the whole time. “It doesn’t have to mean anything to you.”

Dean watches him, the tight way he holds himself, as if he’s cold, but Cas is never cold. Ever. Which should have been Dean’s first clue that maybe he wasn’t fucking human. And that’s a whole other topic that he isn’t going to let himself concentrate on quite yet. “What does it mean to you?”

“It’s…” His mouth stays open, but nothing leaves it. He sighs after a minute and squeezes himself tighter, curling in on himself. Dean hates watching his best friend retreat so hard into himself.

He takes a deep breath and claps a hard on Cas’ bare shoulder. “Come on, let’s get washed up at my place, and we can talk about it over breakfast.” He can try to wrap his head around this on the walk back. Cas goes where Dean directs him, quiet and submissive in a way Dean doesn’t like. Cas can get stuck in his own head sometimes, lost on some insane tangent or spiraling out and making a giant deal out of something minor. Dean isn’t sure if that’s what’s happening, but he’s going to have to do something drastic if it is.

“I own dog toys. A lot of them,” Cas says as Dean’s house comes into sight through a break in the woods.

“So?” Dean isn’t sure where this tangent is going, but he’s too caught up in his own thoughts to worry about it.

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Okay…”

Cas doesn’t say anything else, not until they’re back in the house and showered and changed into comfy pajamas. Dean starts the coffee on autopilot, still no more sure what he wants to say than he was in the woods. He’ll have to call into work at some point. He wasn’t joking about the blood tests.

“I’m in love with you,” Cas says out of the long silence between them. Dean whips his head around to make sure he heard correctly. Cas has never looked more serious, or more vulnerable. “That’s what it means, the mating bite. Werewolves give mating bites to the person they plan to spend the rest of their lives with. It’s a way to stake your claim, so other werewolves don’t try to steal your mate away.”

Dean shuts the water off and sets the coffee pot down to turn around and face Cas. “That sounds like a pretty serious thing, Cas.”

“It is.” Cas looks at the counter.

“You didn’t think to talk to me about it first?”

“I didn’t intend to do it. I spend a lot of time around your house during the full moon, but that’s normally just my instinct to protect you. I didn’t expect you to be up before the sun, let alone running. In the woods. Alone. You hate running.”

“I’ve been doing it for the fire entrance exam. You gotta be able to run 5 kilometers without stopping to pass the physical.”

Cas sighs, leaning his hands against the counter. “I couldn’t help myself. My wolf saw you running and took it as an invitation to chase. I was only going to sniff you when I caught you, scent-mark you, then let you go. But then you bared your neck to me like you were offering yourself up on a platter. My wolf took over. You have to believe it never would have happened had it not been the full moon. I’m not entirely myself then.”

Dean watches him, looking for signs that he might not be telling the whole truth, but he looks like he is. “So you’re in love with me,” he states, just to reiterate that fucking _revelation_.

“Yes.”

“And your instincts basically told you to put a ring on it. The ‘it’ being my fine ass.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but nods. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Dean holds his hands out in supplication. “Look, Cas, I’ve been gone on you since junior high. If we ended up in some kind of accidental marriage/mate thing, I’m cool with it. Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be hitched to. I maybe would have liked you to buy me dinner first, but yeah. I’m okay with it.”

Cas doesn’t say anything for a long time. He stands still, like a robot waiting for updates after a reboot. There might as well be a loading bar above his head. Dean lets him process, turning his attention to the coffee maker. Coffee is his lord and savior this early in the day, especially after a morning like this one.

The coffee maker is happily burbling it’s coffee goodness when a wall of heat steps up next to him, and Dean turns to find Cas standing right there, looking at him like he’s the second coming. Dean raises an eyebrow, waiting for speech. Instead, he gets pressed back against the counter and kissed to within an inch of his life. There’s teeth nibbling on his bottom lip and hot hands clinging to his hips, and one of them is making whining sounds. Dean’s pretty sure that person is him.

When Cas pulls back, his eyes are red to match his lips, and he hasn’t lost the awed expression. “You’re really okay with…”

“I’m in love with you, too, dumbass,” Dean reminds him, pulling him in by the back of his neck for another kiss. Cas makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat and returns it, his mouth curling up into a smile against Dean’s. They don’t stop kissing until the coffee maker pings.

“Five kilometers, huh?” Cas says when they pull away, stepping back only far enough to let Dean grab the mugs. “Maybe you can run the Turkey Trot this year with me and Sam.”

“Fuck you, Cas. You can mate me all you want, but you’re never gonna get me to run for _fun_. Gross.”

Cas is still laughing when Dean shoves a mug in his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Possible Trigger Warning: Driven by Full Moon instincts, Cas bites Dean's neck while in his werewolf form without Dean's consent. Had either of these goobers bothered to talk to each other beforehand about their feelings, Dean would have been more than happy to let Cas claim him. Once he understands what's going on, he is okay with it, but the actual bite was not consented to, so if that's a trigger for you, maybe give this one a pass. Thanks!


End file.
